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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844606">Crimson Days: Crush</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattleScarredRaven/pseuds/BattleScarredRaven'>BattleScarredRaven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crimson Days 2021 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Broken Bones, Crimson Days 2021, Dark Future Verse, F/M, Gen, Relocating Broken Bones, Trapped Under Rubble, stab wounds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:20:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattleScarredRaven/pseuds/BattleScarredRaven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bungie cancelled Crimson Days. Time to bring it back with some one-shot writing prompts.</p><p>Prompts list taken from <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/b955c75f4b310f7d457e9752052468a0/ff605563be2107ed-78/s500x750/41a479243dc224456a9482376f084be43e32920b.png">here</a> and <a href="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/755593808032563312/806055931187167252/Tumblr_l_186601610674801.png">here</a>.</p><p>Day 6: Crush</p><p>The Bombardment comes, the Tower falls, and Ikora finds herself trapped in the rubble with a broken leg.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(if you squint hard enough), Ikora Rey &amp; Zavala, Ikora Rey/Zavala</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crimson Days 2021 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crimson Days: Crush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you don't like broken bones being relocated back into place, turn back now! You've been warned!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong> <em>“</em> </strong> <b> <em>The Darkness has always been there inside us. Perhaps it’s time we embraced it.”</em> </b></p><p>- Dredgen Corvus.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> She felt like she was falling for a long time, both times. Some might call it an eternity, but what was eternity to an immortal such as herself? No, every moment was fleeting, except when they weren’t, like now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The first fall had been entirely of her own making. She had been half frozen, had a knife plunged into her thigh by a raven-visaged Revenant who had mocked her, taunted her. Then, she had broken free, pulled the blade free from her own flesh and stabbed it into the shoulder of her tormentor, pushing them back to give herself space to unleash the massive, violet orb held in her hand, bringing everything down around her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The second came at the hand of betrayal. Three glittering green eyes in the dark and the dust that she welcomed gratefully without suspicion as she reached her hand out for rescue. Pale, scarred lips twisted into a sneer as their owner bends down to her, whispering coldly by her ear: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You were given your chance, Ikora, but you turned your back on it. The Traveler won’t protect you from the storm that’s coming. Not this time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dark magic had brought the rest of the failing Tower down after that, and Ikora recalled nothing else. She didn’t even remember hitting the ground. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When her one remaining eye opened, it was to inky blackness, dusty air and the feeling of debris crushing her chest, all threatening to suffocate her. Drawing on her last reserves of strength, the Warlock Vanguard freed her arms and shoveled the concrete off her body. When she tried to rise, however, a searing pain shot up her leg, and it wasn’t just from her earlier stab wound. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ikora settled back down harshly in her pocket of air with a pained grunt, squeezing her eyes shut. How long before this place became her sarcophagus, the destruction of the Guardians’ home her final epitaph? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ophiuchus?” She croaked, but felt and heard nothing in return, save the dull thuds of distant explosions somewhere above her. She was utterly alone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For only the second time in her life, Ikora was afraid. Afraid she was going to die down here in the dark by herself, and no-one would even know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Letting out a shuddered breath, she resigned herself to her fate. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> The next time Ikora awoke, it was to silence. No explosions overhead. No shuddering in the earth beneath her. Even the destroyed ruins around her did not creak with precariously settling debris. Only her own harsh breathing filled her ears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How long had it been? She did not know. It was impossible to tell time down here. She did not even know whether it was day or night. She could have mistakenly thought she was dead so easily, had she not wiggled the toes of her broken leg and been greeted with a wave of pain and regret. She was to remain a prisoner, it would seem, in the cell of her own design. Slowly suffocating. She shut her eyes again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A dim press of Light rippled up against Ikora’s skull, causing the Warlock to frown. She licked her dry, cracked lips; all she tasted was dirt and gunpowder. Dehydration was getting to her, making her feel things that weren’t there. That had to be it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The next press of Light was stronger, almost like a punch to the gut. Eyes, both blind and seeing, snapped open immediately. The Warlock could feel the type of Light it was, shifting between Arc and Void. With effort, she reached out with her own Void. She was too weak to convey words, but perhaps, if she could just convey a location… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The press of Light disappeared almost as quickly as it had come and, with it, any remaining hope Ikora had left.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fear from before returned. She was going to die down here. The only comfort she could take from such knowledge was that, unlike most Guardians that had perished, she would at least be dying in her home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The comfort was barely any at all. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> The shifting and cracking of rubble was what woke Ikora next, if being barely, deliriously lucid counted as consciousness. She initially dismissed it as more concrete settling somewhere, until she heard it again, louder this time, directly above her. The Warlock shook herself into what little semblance of order she could muster, trying to focus through her haze of delirium.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is anyone down here?” A male voice, full of authority, called through the debris. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zavala? Ikora opened her mouth to answer back but all that came out was a pained, hoarse cough. Desperate panic overtook her then, not wanting to be left alone once more because she couldn’t respond back, and her Light flared a pulse of terrified Void out to the world. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a beat, and had Ikora not been so starved for air, she might have held her breath. Then, the familiar press of Void-tinged Arc wrapped around her being like a soft, comforting blanket; a soothing embrace. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘It’s okay. I’m here.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sound of shifting rubble became more frantic, louder. Fresher air began drifting into the Warlock’s prison. Not long after, a shaft of light pierced the darkness that had been Ikora’s sole company for an untold number of days now. A gloved and armoured hand reached down briefly, clearing a bigger hole, before a dirt covered, shimmering blue face with glowing, sky blue eyes poked through. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ikora…” the Awoken man breathed out her name heavily in relief, “by the Light, I thought…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He swallowed, pulling back so he could drop gently into the hole by her side. His fingers reached out to cup her bloody right cheek tenderly. Her own hand curled weakly around his wrist, her good eye staring at him, half glazed over. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Here.” He pulled a decanter of water from his pack, expertly popping off the lid with one hand and pressing it to Ikora’s lips. “Drink. Slowly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She did, her parched throat finding relief at last like a bone-dry riverbed coming to life after a thunderstorm. She sipped until her lungs demanded air again, and she pulled away from the bottle with a gasp. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Easy.” Zavala cautioned her, re-doing the cap on the bottle and returning it to his pack. “Everything’s going to be alright.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ikora couldn’t help the delirious, grating laugh that escaped her. “We both know you could never lie to me and get away with it, Zavala. I know my leg is broken.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Can’t blame me for trying.” There was a tired smile on the Titan’s lips, before he frowned, looking towards Ikora’s right leg, still covered in rubble. “Does it hurt?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Only when I try and move it.” The Warlock admitted with a grimace. “I can still just about feel my toes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zavala’s frown only deepened. “I’m going to need to take a closer look." He inhaled sharply through his nose, like he would rather be doing anything but. “I cannot promise that moving the rubble off your trapped leg isn’t going to hurt.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m no stranger to pain, Zavala,” she told the Titan, as if he needed that reminder. “I can handle it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know,” his answer was soft and gentle, “but that doesn’t mean you should be made to suffer needlessly. That, and I could do more damage; something I would rather avoid if at all possible.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Awoken slowly began moving the slabs of concrete and crushed debris from Ikora’s leg, one eye on his task and the other on the Warlock for any signs of discomfort. The stab wound came to light first, which was horrific enough, but all-too-soon the gnarly reality of the extent of Ikora’s injuries became apparent, causing even the normally stalwart Zavala to grimace at the sight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That bad?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That bad.” He echoed Ikora’s question as his answer. “Compound fracture. There is no way I can get you out of here without the bone being set back into place and splinted first. Of course, killing you would be far simpler, quicker and kinder on both of us. But… we don’t have the luxury of safely utilising that option.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ikora shot Zavala a wild look. There was no way he knew her Ghost was missing. Unless…  “You know where Ophiuchus is?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Targe found him in the ruins of the City before he found me and led me to him two days after the Tower was destroyed.” The Titan admitted quietly. “We haven’t been able to… He’s still catatonic, as far as we can tell. Either Ophiuchus was knocked out in the explosion and sent clear of it by the shockwave, or he escaped on his own and shut himself down in order to hide. He’s safe in my satchel right now, but being safe doesn’t exactly help our current situation.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Let me see him. I could…-” Ikora started, only to be interrupted by Zavala placing a hand over one of hers and squeezing lightly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “As much as you might believe otherwise, you are in no fit state to attempt anything of the sort right now, Ikora. And even if you were, the press of Darkness is too much here. There would be no guarantee that you would even be able to be resurrected were Ophiuchus available to do so.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That… didn’t make much sense at all. The City was under the Traveler’s protection. The Light was strongest here! Surely, resurrection would be no problem? But then, if that was the case, why hadn’t Ophiuchus awoken yet? What had happened in the time she had been unconscious and lost down here? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ll see soon enough.” Zavala answered her unspoken question, as if sensing what she had to say, pulling away from her as he spoke to detach the dirty, torn Mark at his hip, neatly folding it before handing it to Ikora. “I have nothing to dull the pain, but… this should help keep any noise down.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Warlock accepted it from him, watching the Commander as he set about preparing her leg in order to set the bone. First, he removed the larger of his two pauldrons, gingerly sliding it under the fractured part of her leg to provide some extra stability. Then, he cut away enough of her trouser leg to see what he was doing with a scavenged Hunter’s knife, before finally pulling out a couple of old and unloaded Khvostovs and rolls of fabric from his pack to act as - Ikora presumed - a makeshift splint.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I apologise in advance.” Zavala told her as he worked on the stab wound in her thigh first, tying some of the fabric against it to staunch the flow of blood. “If there was any other way…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know.” Ikora nodded. “Sometimes, we have to do what needs to be done.” She placed his Mark over her mouth like a makeshift gag, gently biting down on the fabric, before signalling her readiness for Zavala to continue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a heavy sigh and equally heavy heart, the Commander shifted his bloodied hands further down the Warlock’s leg. Steeling himself for just a moment, he then began to twist the bone back into place, trying his best to ignore the muffled screams of pain that came from Ikora as he worked. A final slick crunch, and the bone was aligned with its other broken half, leaving the Warlock exhaling laboriously through her nose, tears of pain stinging her eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s done, it’s done.” Zavala assured her, full of sympathy. “Can you move your foot for me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With effort, Ikora wiggled her toes and foot in her boot, satisfying the Titan, who then set about gently tying the guns to her leg and his pauldron, doing his level best to not hurt the Warlock any further. When he was done, Zavala settled down next to her, squeezing Ikora’s hand once again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’ll… we’ll move once you’ve recovered.” His thumb traced comforting circles over her knuckles as he spoke. “Are you alright? If I could have made that less painful…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ikora pulled his Mark from her mouth to hand back to him, wiping away her tears with the back of her free hand. “I’ll… I’ll be fine. It needed to be done. You know I would do the same for you to get you out of a situation like this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Indeed.” Zavala sat back up, fixing his Mark back to its proper place on his belt. “Let’s hope that never happens.” He rose to full height, offering both hands to the Warlock. “Are you ready?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “More than ready.” She couldn’t agree fast enough as she reached for the Titan and locked hands with his; she had been trapped down here far too long already. “Let’s get out of here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zavala hauled Ikora up effortlessly, letting her lean on him while he put his lightened satchel on her back. He then lifted her onto his own back, the Warlock pressing herself gratefully to him, arms wrapped around the Titan’s shoulders and chest and face buried into his neck as he began to ascend from the rubble. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> By the time they escaped to safety, Zavala’s new home in the wreckage of the Almighty, Ikora had fallen asleep. With Targe assuring him she was still alive, the Titan Vanguard draped a blanket over his Warlock counterpart, content to let her sleep while he worked through the night and kept watch over her, a silent protector. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had lost her once already. Zavala was determined he would never lose Ikora ever again. </em>
</p>
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